


Kiss Me Quick

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Away Missions, Emotionally Repressed, Holidays, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kisses edition, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Sort Of, Unresolved Romantic Tension, mckirk - Freeform, sickbay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: Jim Kirk likes kissing Leonard McCoy. He does it quite often. He'll stop looking so smug when Bones stops letting him.AKA 5 times Jim and Bones kissed as friends, plus the 1 time it promised more.





	Kiss Me Quick

**1**

It’s not as if they haven’t kissed before. Jim tried his luck more than a few times back at the Academy, before Bones had made it perfectly clear he thought of Jim as nothing more than an annoying little git. There have been platonic kisses too, because Doctor McCoy is softer and cuddlier than anyone on the Enterprise could possibly understand in private. Only Jim gets to see that side of him – the man who holds Jim in the dark after a nightmare, or presses a kiss against his forehead to wake him from one. Bones offers an intimacy that Jim has never experienced before in his entire life, and maybe that’s why he’s so ridiculously in love with him. Bones loves without remorse. With hesitance, sure, and deeply privately, but not remorsefully.

So maybe that’s why Bones is taking it so stupidly hard that they had to kiss now, in public. Only it’s for the sake of culture, and they’re _all_ doing it. Well, the two highest ranking of each party in any case. That’s Jim, obviously, and Bones. Scotty and Spock are both safe on the ship, and Chekov isn’t remotely close to the good Doctor in terms of command. As Bones so frequently likes to remind Jim, he could put the entire ship on hold with a single transmission to Starfleet. The right word. The right code. Bones is a force to be reckoned with.

Jim still loves him.

“C’mon, Bones. Don’t act like you don’t dream about these pretty lips.” Jim teases, because at least if Bones is mad at _him_ he won’t kick off at their hosts for forcing the stupid rules on them. And, at least if Bones is mad at _him,_ Jim won’t have reason to stick around being painfully aroused only to get yelled at.

As predicted, Bones fixes him with a glare just shy of venomous. “I’m scheduling you for a physical next week, kid.” He threatens, idly, his tone not quite grasping his usual levels of ice. If anything, he sounds miserable. Jim racks his brains trying to think of something he might have missed. It wasn’t Jo’s birthday, nor any tragic anniversary for Bones – either of them, actually. So there’s no reason on earth that he should be so upset. Bones is typically easy to read; he wears his heart on his sleeve, and his heart is typically happy as Larry. Bad anniversaries aside.

“Hey-“ Jim seals his lips before he can ask, because he doesn’t have the time to deal with whatever answer Bones gives him. Bones requires both time and energy, and Jim wants to give him that. But he also knows that his oldest friend is unlikely to answer honestly or freely in the presence of others. So he can wait, and Jim will go on being Captain. “At least you know I’m clean. Ya know, no mouth herpes or anything.” He shrugs and the grin that he attempts is quickly forgone in favour of just leaning forwards and pressing his lips to Bones’. It’s flatter than some of the kisses they’ve shared before, but Jim’s grin bursts open upon his retreat anyway. Not because the kiss is particularly spectacular – though any with Bones _could_ be categorised as such – but because of the dorky look on his face as Jim pulls back. The older and wiser, and infinitely more stable Doctor looks… well, he looks both horrified and angry and utterly adorable. And then he washes it all away and just fixes Jim with another glare. It’s familiar, but Jim can’t quite distinguish whether it’s masking amused irritation or that same misery he’d had earlier. Either way, there’s not much Jim can do right now.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He offers, grinning. When he turns to observe the other senior officers of various races, kissing in their own various ways, he strictly doesn’t notice that Bones’ gaze is still fixed on him.

 

 

**2**

Jim sometimes feels like he’s felt every single ache and pain the human body can possibly endure, until the next time he wakes up in some dungeon or prison cell or arena, and finds some new corner of agony that has thus far escaped him. Typically, that’s where Bones’ intervenes and shows him mercy in the form of his torturous hyposprays. Typically, Jim pretends to mind a lot more than he actually does. It was a real, fully-formed and explainable fear at the start. Tarsus had done so many great things for his development, no greater than his attitude to hospitals and medicine. But since meeting Leonard… since he learned what it meant to be completely cared for, his fears had slowly eased away. Until it wasn’t the hypo Jim saw coming at him, but the worry and love and adoration of his best friend.

Jim doesn’t mind waking up to a sting against his neck, like a sharp pinch, because a hand is pressed to the other side of his neck holding him steady. It’s warm and large and familiar, and when Jim’s eyes flicker open it’s no surprise to see Bones stood at his side, pulling his hypospray away and observing Jim’s reactions closely.

“Easy, darlin’.” Bones says softly, in a voice like a fine bourbon.

“Bones.” Jim attempts, even though he’s learned time and time again that talking immediately after waking up in medbay is nowhere near as good an idea as he wants it to be. Typically… typically, Bones will shake his head and mutter curses and help him sip water, before they can really negotiate how long Jim will have to waste in the shiny white lights of medbay.

Today is different. Today, Bones looks at him not like he’s an infant irritant, but like he’s precious. Then, his worried hovering becomes closer and closer, until Bones is leaning over him and touching his lips to Jim’s cheek. It’s gentle, but _there,_ and when he pulls back Jim feels the inexplicable urge to touch his fingers to the spot. It’s less intimate than the last kiss they shared, but somehow feels infinitely more. More everything. Maybe it’s the way Bones is looking at him, or the drugs Jim is under. But something feels whole inside of him that hasn’t for a while, and he grins lazily.

“You’re an idiot.” Bones tells him, gruff as ever.

“I’m _your_ idiot.” Jim corrects him. It doesn’t need explaining and it doesn’t have to be romantic, but it’s the truth. Jim will go out and be stupid, and Bones will always be there to fix him up again. That’s just how it goes. As much as he wants to just pull Bones onto his bed with him and hold him, and probably kiss him properly, he won’t. Because that’s _not_ how it goes.

He doesn’t get chance, anyway, because the doors slide open and his First Officer strides into the room.

“Spock!” Jim says, his voice coming out more breathless than he’d intended it to. And then he grins, ignoring Bones moving back – away – and packing away his hypos.

“Captain. I came to update you on the Ship’s progress since leaving Talus.” A beat passes. “How are you?”

“I’m quite well, Spock.” Jim replies, touched by his Vulcan friend’s concern. “Tell me, how’s our ship?” He asks, and for a brief moment Spock’s neutral expression loosens into something affectionate and unguarded.

“Hey- don’t keep him up for too long, Spock. He still needs his sleep.” Bones says, by the door. He isn’t looking at them, Jim realises when he looks up. Bones is purposefully glaring down at his PADD – and there it is again. That little frown that he can’t quite push away. Like he’s miserable. And Jim is trapped in a hospital bed, incapable of following him – of even _asking._

And then Bones is gone, and Jim forces himself to smile at Spock. “Go ahead.”

 

 

**3**

“This is ridiculous.” Bones hisses at him, a month later, when it’s like that press of lips to his cheek in medbay never happened. And now he’s in for a whole world of pain, inside their assigned quarters on a planet they barely understand.

“It’s not my fault! _I_ didn’t mistranslate the word bonded for the word pair!” He’d just assumed, somewhat densely in retrospect, that pair had just meant two Officers. Two did not necessarily mean couple – and he certainly couldn’t have known that couples just _had_ to be romantic, and had to kiss every time they met with the leaders of the planet. “Listen, we’re only going to be here for today.” _And I can’t be that repulsive._ “We can do this. Bones, I _need_ you to do this. So that we don’t get killed. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.” Bones replies, petulantly. “This’d just be a hell of a lot easier if you’d brought Spock.”

Jim snorts, loosening his collar. Their quarters aren’t too bad considering they’re only there for the day. He’d happily spend a loved up, couple weekend there with Bones. As it is, they’re not _actually_ a couple, and it’s just a space to wait until the leaders are ready to meet them. “I beg to differ.” He says, sitting. “Spock would hate this. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t really welcome intrusions on his personal space. He _is_ a touch telepath.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Bones says, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “Will Spock be okay with this, though?”

Jim frowns. “Yeah. I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be.” Spock’s never exactly been a fan of Jim’s methods on away missions, but this is in a league of its own. A thought occurs to him then, which is barbaric. So ridiculous that he almost writes it off entirely. “Hey, you know I’m not dating Spock, right? Like, that’s insane.”

He watches Bones’ expression closely, but he doesn’t see anything other than a fractional tensing. Bones is always outwardly tense though. It’s what’s on the inside that counts with Bones. His emotions are generally hidden by anger. Anger is easy – Jim _knows_ that intimately.

“I mean, I love him, but not like _that.”_

“I didn’t say anything, Jim.” Bones mutters.

“You didn’t have to.” Jim replies. “But it’d be easier if you just spoke to me. You know, like an emotionally healthy fully grown man.”

It’s Bones’ turn to laugh, amusement piercing his sheen of irritation and bitterness. “Because we are the embodiment of emotionally healthy men, Jimmy.” He huffs then, and Jim tries to keep his focus on Bones’ face rather than his slender hands, as Bones copies him in loosening his collar. “I just… you can talk to me, dammit. I’m still your friend, however busy we both get.”

“Yeah.” Jim smiles ruefully. “Yeah, I know.” He pats the seat beside him, and Bones sinks down into it. “It was easier at the Academy, wasn’t it. When you were right next to me, and not halfway down the ship.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.” Bones sighs. “C’mon. Let’s go make out in front of some strangers. God knows you’re due a relapse, Kid.”

“Rude.” Jim laughs, and clasps Bones’ shoulder, and tries to act like he can wait to press his lips to his best friend’s. Tries not to remember how Bones’ lips felt against his on all those drunken nights, right at the start, before he’d learned to respect that Bones literally did not want him after his disaster of a marriage. That was a bit of a shock to Jim’s system, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that Jim isn’t wanted _now._ A lot of time has passed, after all, and he and Bones are closer than they’ve ever been. Jim throws out another test, because he _can,_ as they walk back to the congregation hall.

“Honestly though, when’s the last time I made out with and slash or around strangers?” He asks, and watches the confusion and then comprehension dawn on his best friend’s face- momentarily alleviating the frown lines. He stops by the doors to the hall, one hand on the handle and the other one extended to Bones. “Maybe I finally grew up, Bones.” He suggests, grinning.

“Huh.” Is all Bones says, but he takes Jim’s hand anyway and together they stroll into the hall. Jim’s strides fee particularly cocky as they approach the front. He feels like he’s allowed. He gets to kiss his best friend and love of his life, who he’s coincidentally managed to shock into speechlessness, and his day will probably end with the establishing of regular and healthy relations with a new planet. All in all, plenty of reason to be quite smug.

When they reach the front of the hall, they bow to the leaders who are what can only be described as _cuddling_ with their many, many limbs. They turn to each other, and Jim doesn’t even have time to demonstrate to Bones just how cocky he feels before Bones’ free hand works around his neck and pulls him in close, claiming his mouth in a fraction of a second. It’s Jim’s turn to be shocked, but he’d be a fool if he dared let himself feel that for more than a moment. It’s easier and far, far better to just accept that his best friend is ferociously snogging him.

Until he is not, and Jim is gasping in a breath and staring wildly at the man in front of him. Bones expression is so blank it may as well have been Spock- only _no,_ because Spock is his brother, not his… just not Bones. But that kiss… hell, pecks on the cheek or forehead now definitely no longer count. Bones has just _kissed_ him properly. Thoroughly. Jim is probably ruined for kisses forever.

And none of it is real. He turns slowly to the leader, whose _limbs_ are blushing a pleased violet and squelching awkwardly. The public display of affection has clearly appeased the leader, and Jim plasters a smile to his face, even though his hand feels numb in Bones’.

“We are ready to begin if you are.” He says, and the violet turns a welcoming shade of plum. He takes that as a good sign.

 

 

**4**

“Jim?” Bones says, in a voice so hoarse it breaks Jim’s heart. If it wasn’t so dark… if he could see him better, through the bars separating their cells. If he could know for certain that his CMO was unhurt, and the only reason for his tone was exhaustion and not injury, then he might feel more hopeful. “Jim, there’s a nail on the floor here.” Or that. That’s good too, on the hope scale.

“There- what?” Jim blinks, trying to process that little pocket of good fortune. He pushes back all his own injuries and tiredness, staggering up off the floor. Of all his pain, it’s his hands that hurt the most. Tied behind his back and sort of stinging. Not that he’s going to admit it, because it’s a scratch at _most_ and that physically should not hurt him nearly as much as everything else he’s endured. “A nail? Bones, you have to pass it to me!”

“Yes, thank you for that Captain Obvious.” His irritation is oddly comforting. “You might not have noticed, but I don’t exactly have full use of my hands at the minute.” He huffs, and Jim can’t help but grin.

“C’mon, Bones. I need that nail to save both our lives. If you do this, I promise I’ll find you some shore leave. Right away. Anything you want, Bones. I just need that nail.” Because Bones barely wanted to go to space, let alone die on some weird dungeon planet. Jim will not let him die. He’ll get them to the outside and Spock will find them, and it will all be fine.

“Okay, shut up.” Bones mutters, and Jim gets as close to the bars as he physically can, his face smushed against the bars, but all he can see is darkness. He listens closely to Bones groaning and shifting, and then suddenly the Doctor is right there, in front of him, pressed right up against the bars too. Then lips are against Jim’s, and the pain fades away entirely.

It’s a long moment, and Jim secures the nail between his teeth from Bones’ dry lips long before he pulls back, trying not to smile too hard lest he get cocky and drop the nail. Bones _kissed_ him. He drops to his ass and wrangles his tied hands from behind his back to under his knees, and then around his feet and back around to his front. Good. He stands again, and through the dark realises that Bones is watching him through wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you move your hands _before_ you had a metal nail in your mouth, you absolute _fucking_ moron?!” He doesn’t actually sound too annoyed, but if Jim had somehow swallowed the nail or choked himself, he was sure that would have changed. Luckily, he’d be too dead to hear it. He grins as he plucks the nail from his mouth, his movements somewhat restricted by his tied wrists.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain my plan before you kissed me, Bonesy.” He winks. “Turn around.”

Bones does as instructed with a reluctant huff. “If I kissed you, Jim, then I also kissed the floor to get the key in the first place. So what’s your point?”

“No, you _kissed_ me.” Jim teases, momentarily distracted by his attempt to undo Bones’ handcuffs. “Any excuse Bones, am I right?” He grins, as the lock pops and the handcuffs fall apart. “There you go.” He withdraws his hand, the nail along with it and waits for Bones to finish flexing his hands and return the favour.

“You’re an idiot.” Bones mutters, snatching the nail from between the bars. “You’d probably unpick your own lock faster than I’d be able to, you know.”

“Maybe.” Jim deflects. “Maybe I just love your concentration face. Real sexy, Bones.”

“You see in the dark, Kid?” Bones says, fondly. Unless Jim is imagining it. Maybe he’s lost blood, though he can’t exactly say where from.

“You wanna hurry up? It’s nearly visiting hours.” And he has no intention of attempting to fight their prisoners still restrained by handcuffs. He’s seen those bastards, and he won’t even get his cuffed hands around their thick necks to choke them – let alone feeling this woozy.

“I’m trying, your hands are all wet. It’s making it too slippy.” Then Bones lets slip a little pained noise. “Jim, why are your hands covered in blood?”

“I cannot remember, and the longer you ask stupid questions for the harder I’m finding it to stay upright.” Jim groans. “Please, Bones. I love you with all my heart, but you gotta do me a solid on this one and get these handcuffs out of my wrists.”

“Shit. Okay, Jim.” Bones says, and then the handcuffs unlock and Jim drops his wrists instantly. “Thank god.”

“Not your first time getting out of handcuffs, eh Bones?” Jim leers, even as he moves out of the fractional light to feel his door up. He can tease Bones. He’s always been able to tease Bones, even though the man is too old and too serious to accept it from anyone else. Bones gives it as good as he gets it, anyway.

“Not your first time _in_ them.” Bones replies, gruffly.

“Aw play nice, Doctor McCoy.” He holds a hand out inanely, because Bones can’t see him. He can hear the distant opening doors though, and falls silent too. They’re coming. “Hey, if you knock out your guard before I get mine, I’ll even let you kiss me again.”

“Fuck you.”

Jim can hear the smile in Bones’ tone.

 

 

**5**

It’s earth winter, and Jim hates it – _it_ and the festivities that come with it. He keeps himself busy most of the time, has more energy than he knows what to do with, and works harder and better than most people he’s known. He can drink and dance, spend hours working on the same essay without getting bored, create designs for engines and do mental maths almost as quickly as Chekov, if not quite Spock. So he’s good, and he doesn’t give himself time to be too introspective or self-examining. But it doesn’t take a genius where he’s concerned to work out why he hates Christmas so much. Because of Tarsus. And Frank. His Mom. His _Dad._ There wasn’t much about the whole season that thrilled him. But recently, he’d had someone to share his misery with. Since the academy, Bones has been there every Christmas, equally as tragic. Pathetic, Nyota calls them. Jim is fine with that. He’s accepted it.

This year, Bones is different. He’s not coming over to Jim’s of an evening to sit in miserable silence. He doesn’t quietly put protein bars by Jim’s bed, and desk, and fix his diet card so he’s allowed extra calories to make up for all the being miserable he’s enduring. Jim shouldn’t feel personally slighted, because he shouldn’t _expect_ special treatment. Bones has over four hundred people to look out for. Only… well, Jim _is_ Captain. And Bones is his best friend. So why shouldn’t he get special treatment? He’s been trying to work out what’s different… what’s _changed_ between them to make Bones so distant recently. It’s not as if he could have missed the season? One half of the ship celebrates some sort of earth festivity – predominantly Christmas, annoyingly, and the spirit is _everywhere._ Jim hates it.

It’s Bones’ fault that he goes to the stupid Officer’s Christmas Party. If Bones was a better friend, he wouldn’t feel so horrifically lonely. He wouldn’t need to go and socialise with happy, cheery, festive arses that he both loved and respected infinitely. Jim is bitter, and he knows that. He’ll keep it neatly inside his head where he can’t offend anyone with it, even though they all seem to be able to see right through him.

“You’re upset.” Nyota says, knowingly. Beside her, Spock stands still and contemplative. Jim knows he agrees with Nyota, and he feels infinitely betrayed by his First Officer for it.

“I’m fine.” He says, for what feels like the hundredth time. He downs what could well be his hundredth shot. Except no, that’s barbaric. But he wishes it was, because then he might forget how crap he feels, and how happy everyone else is. He’s being bitter again, but he really doesn’t care. He steals Spock’s untouched glass of scotch and sips it.

“Where’s Leonard? Working?”

“Er, probably.” Jim mutters, and tries to avoid Nyota’s piercing gaze. Of course he knows that Bones isn’t working. He’s followed Bones’ rota for weeks, months, years. He knows when Bones is available for dropping in on at sickbay, when he’ll be sleeping, and when he can expect a visit himself. Bones is off tonight, and he’s nowhere, and Jim is bitter.

“Probably, he says.” Nyota scoffs.

“You know what, I actually have work to do. Real, Captain stuff. So, if you don’t mind, I have to dash.” Jim excuses himself, and he doesn’t wait for a response. It’s petty and unnecessary, but he’s too far from sober to politely justify his exit, and too close to drunk to risk attempting. He turns on his heel, backs away from the table that he’d intended to spend his evening at, and tries for the door. It’s not that he doesn’t want to stay and socialise, it’s just he can’t trust them to not make it about Bones. He can’t even ask, because then they’ll know. They’ll know how pathetic he is. How miserable he is without his best friend, even though Bones hasn’t actually gone anywhere. They’re still trapped on the same ship together.

Jim knows. He gets it. He’s teased too much, pushed too much. One kiss out of necessity turned into a desperate desire for it to mean something more than obligation, or friendliness. Bones has made it clear from the start, for years now, that he doesn’t want that. Or Jim isn’t the person he wants that with, at least. Jim’s pushed too far, and now he has to work something out. Because it’s his first Christmas without Bones is years, and he’s not entirely sure how he’s going to get through it. Alcohol has done jack shit, and paperwork isn’t nearly as distracting as essays were in the Academy. He could throw himself into an essay- make the words he thought and wrote the very essence of his life for however long he was writing. Reading boring reports, he finds it harder to maintain concentration. To put it bluntly, he can’t think over the worries in his head, and Bones isn’t there to soothe him. So he’s fucked.

The corridor is quiet, and Jim pretends not to notice Chekov and Sulu pressed up behind a slim fit Christmas tree beyond whistling the Starfleet Academy radio jingle for safe sex, and smiling to himself blithely when he hears the too wet sound of tongues retracting and lips breaking apart. _Lovely_. It’s not like Jim is against the holiday spirit, or couples, or public displays of affection. But right now, all he can think about is a private display of affection. Of Bones, turning up in his quarters and just kissing him senseless and that being that. Because that’s all they need to be. Just Jim and Bones.

The turbo lift doors open and his breath catches when he sees Bones stood there, dressed in his blues and looking exhausted. “Hey, I was just coming to find you.” Bones says, and Jim remembers to actually step into the lift. “I’ve been stuck in surgery. Riley needed an appendectomy – he’s fine, I promise.” Bones consoles him at the first outbreak of panic. “He asked me not to tell you until he was good. No point spoiling your Christmas, he said.”

“You both know damn well I don’t celebrate.” Jim mutters. He’s not actually that upset- not as much as he would be if Kevin hadn’t made it or something. But Lieutenant Riley is fine and safe, and Jim will respect his wishes. “I’ll visit him tomorrow then. Before you discharge him, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, he’ll be happy to see you. I swear, he thinks you’ve forgotten who he is every time I see him.”

Jim keeps his lips pursed, because it’s that or rant about every single instance on Tarsus and after that he was there for Kevin Riley when he was hurting. Jim doesn’t get to do that now. They’re barely even close, and it takes everything he’s got to stay away. But he sure as hell won’t forget. Not ever.

“I thought you’d be in your quarters.” Bones says, too casually.

“I got bored. Went to the party. Saw things no Captain should see. Now, I’m going to bed.”

“Right. You sure?” Bones asks. “I got my holiday transmission from Jo, if you wanna watch it with me?”

Jim wants to say yes. He loves Bones’ daughter. He shakes his head. “Nah, I wanna be up early tomorrow. Lot’s to do. You go ahead and have a nice night.”

He loves Joanna, but that’s probably not healthy, right? He has his own family. Bones cannot be the only person he has, that’s not right. It’s too dependent. Jim is supposed to be self-sufficient. He can’t lose his mind because his best friend doesn’t love him the right way. Hell, who even says there’s a right way? Jim should take the platonic love and run with it, because it’s a damn sight more than he even anticipated getting. He thought he’d fly through the Academy. Excel. He thought he’d succeed far beyond anyone’s wildest expectations, and he thought he’d do it all alone. Like the rest of his life. This hasn’t gone to plan, and if he has any sense he should cut Bones lose now before it ruins his career as well as his fragile happiness.

The lift stops and Jim steps one foot out, before a hand grasps his wrist and tugs him back. Then, there are lips on his. Just for a moment. Bones’ hand holds firm, and he pulls back with a lazy grin on his stupid, inexplicably tanned face.

“Mistletoe.” He says, softly – compacting far too much accent into one goddamned word. Jim stares, heart pounding and head spinning. Mistletoe. _Mistletoe_.

“Fuck you, Bones.” He jerks his hand away, and stomps off towards his quarters before he can really demonstrate how angry he is. Bones doesn’t do that. Bones doesn’t toy with feelings and kiss for no goddamn reason beyond _mistletoe_.

 

 

 

**+1**

He’s in bed, and he’s not crying. Jim Kirk is resolutely not crying in bed like a teenager. He wouldn’t know. His face is burrowed in his pillow, so he can’t be sure. His hearing is perfectly fine though, and he hears the medical override which finally lets Bones’ into his room.

“Oh, you _infant.”_ Are his first words. “How is this playing out in that stupid, thick head of yours?” Bones is pacing. “Because in my head, Jim, you’re kissing me all the damn time. Under any damn excuse. And you just grin, and wink, hide behind innuendo and walk away. And I put up with it every time, because I keep telling myself that this’ll be the time that you grow the fuck up and say something you actually mean. That you’ll stop _hiding_.”

Jim lifts his head fractionally, fingers toying at the sheets beneath him. He’s anxious in a way he can’t recall experiencing in a long, long time. Like he’s teetering on the edge of greatness and a long fall, and only perseverance will determine which side he falls onto. Bones is there, and that should make everything better. Only he’s not a side, he is the edge itself.

“But you don’t. You never grow up.” Jim tries hard to think of the last time Bones called him Kid, and he keeps thinking but there doesn’t seem to be an answer coming his way. Stupid brain. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I’ll been fixing your oldest friend for two hours, and I’m exhausted. I had this idea of coming into your room, and climbing into bed with you. Like we do. And kissing your cheek. Like I do. And just being with you, where I’m supposed to be. Where I’ve been since the day we met, dammit!” Bones rants. “And then you stagger into the lift, and there’s mistletoe. And I kiss you because you’re pretty and you slur when you’ve had shots, and you pretend not to be worried about Riley even though you probably hate me a little bit for not contacting you _immediately_ when he came into medbay.”

“Just a tiny bit.” Jim replies.

“Right.” Bones says. “My point is, Jim… you don’t get to be angry and storm off. Okay. That’s not fair. Not when you’ve done the same thing to me a thousand times before.”

“Okay.” Jim drops back down, twists on the mattress until he’s lying on his side. “So come to bed.” He says.

Bones looks at him blankly. “I’m mid-rant.”

“When aren’t you?”

“Jim-“

“Bones.” Jim grins. “Get in the bed and kiss me, and if I’m not too hungover in the morning I’ll let you fuck me. If I _am_ too hungover, I’ll let you look after me. Like you do.” He holds the blankets up in a final invitation, and Bones has never looked so adorable. He stands, looking down at Jim, clearly baffled and irritated and just beautiful. Really, impeccably beautiful. Tired and frowning, and perfect.

He moves like he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but then he’s pressed up against Jim, and his breath is hot against his cheek. Then their lips touch, and everything is perfect around Bones. Like he exudes perfection, and Jim is the one that gets to reap the benefits. He kisses him like it’s their first ever kiss, even though they’d kissed a dozen times at least – and Jim sure as hell can’t remember the first one. It’s a shame, but this more than makes up for it. Because Bones is… perfect.

“M’okay.” Jim smiles, burrowing his head into Bones’ neck when they break off. “That was nice.”

There’s a long silence, and then Bones’ hands leave his face and his arms wrap around him tightly, like there can’t even be a millimetre of space between them. Bones smells clean and clinical, and wonderful. He’s there and he’s solid, and Jim doesn’t need to be scared that he’s going anywhere because Bones has been there for a good while now. Stable and unrelenting, and wonderful.

“I love you, Jim.” Bones says, pressing a kiss to his hair like all those lost nights that Jim had both treasured and despaired over.

“I love you too, Bones. Sorry I’ve been such an idiot.” But it was sort of fun at the time. The teasing. The knife edge. Jim smiles, because there’s so much more to come. He knows that. For once in his life, he’s eager for the future. For each day he gets with Bones to work out how to be an emotionally healthy grown man in a loving, long term relationship. He doesn’t want to skip ahead to the end. He has no intention of missing a single second of this.

“But you’re my idiot.” Bones sighs, and he sounds happy. “Sleep, darlin’.”

“Okay.” Jim grins and forces himself to stop looking at Bones’ perfect, tired face. He closes his eyes, and thinks of the thousand more kisses he’ll get to have.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!


End file.
